Naomi Myrvaagnes

The Search Committee


As I stood waiting at the side door with Rabbi Niederstein, I took in the first facts of the building. Maybe, I dared hope, my building. The synagogue fit between its neighbors like a molar. A modest plaque, near the rusted doorbell, commemorated the founding: Congregation B’nei Yisroel, 1909. I’d just noticed the pile of stray trash by the main entrance when a wisp of a man in an ancient gray suit let us in. Max Blumberg, the president. A yarmulke leaned precariously on his knobby forehead.

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